Dental Quackery
by damn expensive eggs
Summary: Wow, this used to have an extremely unappealing summary. How do you properly summarize porn. Anyway, yeah: Craig/Tweek, quackery and poppycock, utter smut, sex, lemon, whatever you want to call it, there's dick. Two of them. This is a oneshot.


**A/N:** Hi! 8) I have a lot to say about this, I think. I'm probably gonna forget it all as I'm writing, but whatever.

Well... this is kinda like, the first time I ever did this. I mean, write porn out of nowhere. I mean, I've done it, but I never really publish it. I've only written porn two other times for two other multichapters, one of which is awful and the other is a slight improvement. What I've learned from both of them, is that I don't really like writing sex in the third person. The outcome may be better, but it's a little more difficult. In fact, as I'm writing this, I haven't finished, but I just need to get this monster AN out of the way.

It just started with an urge about two weeks ago. And the song Teeth by Lady Gaga. I was like, I wanna write porn, so I started it. And sooo this is what we have here. This whole thing is, like a lot of things I write, based off of a lot of canon, because I try to stick to the universe, I really, really do. This is overall based off of the fact that Craig and Tweek were both accused of having fucked up/crooked teeth. Don't you love that about Craig? Cartman said he has fucked up teeth, but he didn't go against it. In Tweek vs. Craig, Stan accused Tweek of having crooked teeth (who was falsely imitating Craig, pretty adorably) and even though Tweek denied it, that doesn't mean it isn't true. He also said he wasn't a chicken. Well, he's kind of a chicken. He did fight, but he's still kind of a little bit of a chicken. Kind of. Other canon things include the duct tape, since Craig totally dug that shit in Hooked on Monkey Fonics - as well as the rubberbands, which is something I didn't quite catch until like, today. Tweek had rubberbands for no reason in Proper Condom Use (see what we did there? I don't do all the work here, folks, this is South Park!) and, in Butters' Very Own Episode, Butters mentions that he was being accused of stealing rubberbands when he saw Craig take them. Why do Tweek and Craig have things for rubberbands? I don't know. And lastly, their safe word is based off canon. I'm not going to give away the safe word, but you'll know it, trust me.

This wasn't just written for me, even though it sort of started off that way. When I got more into this, I just kept thinking of more people I know it could pertain to. I need to directly acknowledge who I wrote this in mind with. Count 'em, six people:

To Azreto and Moonar (for the dentisting), to ddevotchka and zeromotion (for the pr0n), to Qindarka (for the duct tape), and to Puzzlie (for the everything).

And of course, I wrote it for everyone out there who was craving some Craig/Tweek and, what else, sex, yes.

ALSO IMPORTANT. This takes place in the same universe as two other one-shots of mine, I'm Not Going to Think About Him and Unspoken Words. THESE AREN'T IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER, SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO READ THE OTHERS. BUT, this is like my default arc of the Craig/Tweek relationship, starting with INGTTAH, the break-up fic, and going backwards from there, to UW which is a stepping stone towards their break-up. Here, we go back a little farther than UW, during a better era when their apartment is new and the sex is still fun.

I'm afraid this didn't come out too well, it's really physical. But I'm not functional enough to reread. All my pieces are getting too long to reread myself, augh.

Either way, bottom line is, this is porn, so it's not meant to be taken too seriously. It's porn, porn, porn, porn, porn, and if you don't like it, don't read it, and if you don't like it, I don't know why you even read up to this point.

But if you do like it, enjoy!

* * *

_**Dental Quackery**_

There was a reason Craig Tucker never smiled.

And it wasn't that he wasn't happy. One can be happy, and choose not to externally express the emotion. He was as happy as he was gay, and neither of the two were visible from the surface - Craig Tucker, the least gay-looking gay man, the least happy-looking happy man. He didn't smile, and he didn't have a little kink in his step that made him walk like the gay princess of rainbow-shitting unicorns. His eyes were as cold as he was hot (in his personal opinion, of course, though he'd resent it should anyone disagree). But, _of course_, Mr. Dark, Cold and Emotionless shan't smile, for all his sex appeal would sink and fall down the drain of insecurity.

Craig Tucker's teeth were _fucked_ up.

And how he annoyed his dentists. Lack of brushing (he hated the taste of peppermint and fluoride), forgetting to floss (he was always glad to enjoy leftovers), and he didn't even appreciate the convenience of mouthwash (he still could barely stand the flavor). He had an overbite, and one of his top two central incisors grew a large gap apart from the other, while his bottom central incisors looked to be playing a game of leapfrog. His canines were facing at practically-sideways angles. His lateral incisors, both top and bottom, didn't seem to get along well with their central counterparts. Those, as well, were facing in odd angles. His bicuspids and molars were next to normal, but the only the keenest of eyes could tell that he had a minimal crossbite. He was only glad that he couldn't fit a finger through the gap between his two front teeth.

And Tweek Tweak had the _audacity_ to complain about his own teeth.

"Don't you think there's a little bit of a gap between my two front teeth? I mean, it's hard to tell, but don't you think they could be a little closer than that? Like, what if, because, they're so far apart from each other that it proposes a bigger chance for me to lose my teeth in an accident? I'm not saying I know anything about dentistry or anything, but I don't think it's really healthy for my teeth to be _this_ crooked, and you know, my parents never really wanted to get me braces, because they always thought my teeth were fine, but now that they're all grown in, I'm starting to think that they look a little... weird, you know? And those four in the front of my bottom row look kinda _ffrmmfush..." _Tweek trailed off in muffled words, as he held a finger in his mouth to examine his teeth in the bathroom mirror. "Don't you think?"

Craig wasn't quite sure of what Tweek was asking him. He leaned on the bathroom doorframe with his arms crossed, grey eyes peering at body parts other than Tweek's teeth. "I never really paid much attention to your teeth."

"Never paid much attention to my teeth? But, Craig, man, they - they're there all the time! How couldn't you notice them?" He was gesticulating as he spoke, but his eye contact remained on his reflection, teeth clenched.

"Because that isn't the part of you that my attention is drawn to at the moment," Craig drawled in reply.

"But, but - _Jesus_, I haven't been to the dentist in a while. What if I have some sort of gum disease and I don't know about it because I haven't been to the dentist in so long? What if my teeth all fall out one day and I have to use those creepy fake teeth that make me smile_ forever?" _He widened his eyes in horror. Tweek didn't want to smile forever. That would be painful, and nevertheless misleading as far as external emotions go. And on that thought, it was easy to say that Tweek only smiled as much as Craig did. If Tweek smiled, Craig would smile back, and vice versa. It was a mirror effect that couldn't be shattered, even if they did fail to notice when it happened.

"You're not gonna have to use creepy fake teeth," Craig said, which was an automatic response of reassurance ("You're not gonna..." followed by the event Tweek fears is going to take place). "Also, I've had fucked up teeth since I was born, and I wasn't even born with teeth."

Tweek closed his mouth. He frowned slightly at himself. He didn't want to agree that Craig's teeth were fucked up, and neither did he want to disagree, because then he just would have been lying. Craig's teeth may as well have been one of (_one of) _Tweek's favorite physical features about Craig - it was a flaw that he appreciated, because perfect teeth, sure as all hell, were scary. He went with, "At least you have teeth."

"Hot damn, that's comforting."

"_Gah - _SORRY! It's just that you, you..." He finally took his eyes off himself and looked at Craig. "Can you take me to the dentist?"

"No."

"Why not?" It was almost a whine. Craig hated whining.

"You don't need a bunch of quack dentists to go inside your mouth and tell you to brush your teeth twice a day," he said. "I can do that myself." He stood upwards and walked around the sink to come in closer contact with his partner.

"I—" Tweek stammered. He was still as Craig gripped his thin face between his large fingers, with strength and security. The blond could feel Craig's dry, rough skin on his softer flesh. His mouth stayed closed. Craig squinted at Tweek's shaking profile. He forced Tweek's head in the opposite direction, carefully looking at the shape of his jaw, and the way his lips folded together softly.

"Show me your teeth," he said.

"What?"

"Show me your teeth."

Tweek hesitated before he flashed Craig a fake smile - it actually wasn't even a smile, it was a separation of his lips in that awkward-looking shark-like tooth flash. It was the kind of non-smile you gave your dentist when he or she asks you to do so, and your personal space feels invaded the whole time, fingers in your mouth, poking around, touching places that don't need to be touched...

Craig clicked his tongue. "I can't see you well enough in this light."

Tweek didn't speak. He kept his teeth exposed.

"Don't move," Craig ordered, as he slithered out of the bathroom to the kitchen area of the apartment. He then poked his head back in with a quick, "You can close your mouth now."

Tweek closed his lips together with a breath of relief.

When Craig returned, he didn't return. He was in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed (from Tweek's early morning compulsiveness, of course). He looked no different from before - only, in front of him, stood a chair from the dining room, in all its wooden simplicity. Tweek could see from his spot in the bathroom, Craig's "come 'ere" hand gesture, through the second opened door in the bathroom. (Tweek wasn't used to having two bathroom entrances - it made him worry about a bigger chance of someone invading his privacy, and they could attack from more than one angle. He hated having to remember locking _both_ doors, even though Craig told him not to, for "pleasant bathroom surprises.")

Tweek followed the request, and with another simple point to the chair, he knew to sit. Craig got up, Tweek mentally cursing about those goddamn wrinkles Craig left remaining on the comforter, and he felt those hands touch his face again. His coarse palms, slightly chilling to the touch, tingled at Tweek's cheeks as Craig cupped them lightly. He tilted his head back, his brown eyes fixed onto the ceiling (as he briefly noticed the paint was so, so badly chipping).

"Show me your teeth," Craig said above a whisper. Tweek flashed his teeth again.

Craig brought his vision closer to Tweek's mouth. He only observed so closely until he knew he couldn't quite shake his urge to kiss his partner - he resisted. Tweek would be taken by surprise and he'd probably kick back, fall over and bump his head on something and it would be all Craig's fault. And so he only ran his finger over Tweek's bottom lip, getting a better look at his bottom incisors. Unlike Craig's, they were aligned upright. Tweek's top two central incisors were less than perfect, but of course straighter than Craig's by a landslide.

Craig bit his own lip. "Open your mouth."

Tweek obliged, but only opened his mouth in the slightest bit, not helping Craig's view at all.

"Wider," he said. Tweek's open mouth hardly twitched any difference in size. "_Wider_," he said with little aggravation, "I should know you can open your mouth wider than that."

And he did. Craig began to explore.

His fingers were almost too big to fit in Tweek's mouth. Because of this, he only used two fingers at a time to feel inside Tweek's inner cheek. He poked around the lower back areas, catching sight of his molars and bicuspids, which were grown in straight and fine, as far as Craig could tell.

Craig forgot to remind Tweek that his teeth were fine and dandy when Craig spread three fingers across Tweek's tongue, touching, fingering, feeling Tweek's hot breath on his hand. Tweek, alarmed at the saliva backing up around his throat, closed his mouth around Craig's fingers, quickly. Craig didn't move. Tweek moved his tongue back a bit, but then brought it back to run its moist surface across Craig's fingers. He brought his own fingers to wrap around Craig's wrist to keep his hand from moving - just for security. Craig wouldn't have moved anyway. He only slung his leg over Tweek's lap so he could straddle him on the chair. Craig bucked his hips into Tweek, deepening his fingers into his mouth, feeling him suck, lick and savor. Tweek, this time, threw Craig's hand aside, with the hard clasp he had around his wrist. Craig immediately held Tweek's head with his wet fingers and forced themselves into a rough kiss, at first with only light tongue work. As they deepened, their mouths opened wider, wider, _wider _on each other, exchanging hot breaths and softly spoken names.

With their mouths practically inside one another's, they licked and nipped. Tweek ran his tongue along Craig's own teeth, feeling the spaces, the jagged way they grew, and the flaws Craig kept hidden behind his lips. Craig returned the tongue and teeth action, using his central incisors to bite at the flesh that was Tweek's bottom lip. Tweek careened forwards with more force and strength, biting harder on Craig's flesh, drawing a slight bit of blood that they could taste between themselves.

Growing tired of this position, Craig stood up, most importantly bringing Tweek with him with a grasp on his bony shoulders. Throwing him onto the bed, Craig attacked the blond with his mouth (Tweek somewhat forgetting about how perfectly and symmetrically he had set up the comforters that morning). Craig proceeded to stay mouth-to-mouth with him, but only briefly before he lingered downwards, to his smoothly shaped jaw-line, where he lay soft kisses up until coming in contact with his ear. At the lobe, he nibbled lightly with a front tooth. Tweek breathed out, with a soft squeak-like noise that Craig loved. The blond could even feel the irregularity of Craig's tooth placement, and it made it all the more enjoyable to know that it was, in fact, Craig nibbling at his ear at the moment, and not anyone else.

Craig brought his left hand to Tweek's face, while his right ran its fingers through Tweek's mess of hair. With his other hand on his skin, he traced his fingertips towards the corner of Tweek's mouth again and pulled gently. Tweek closed his mouth around a single finger - his middle finger, and licked around it as Craig tugged tightly at Tweek's hair.

Craig departed from Tweek's ear. Descending southward a little more, he came to Tweek's shirt collar. One button had been undone. He was already catching glimpse of the skin underneath, and oh, how he wanted it. He didn't even find any time to remove his hands from Tweek's higher regions - he went straight for the buttons using his most accessible body part. With his teeth, he almost ripped each button open, keeping his left hand over Tweek's mouth still. His right hand managed to come down with him, and helped him finish the undressing because Craig couldn't wait any longer to get what he wanted.

He finally met the smooth skin beneath Tweek's shirt, and as soon as it was all in his sight, as soon as he reminded himself that this was his, he belonged to him, he claimed it his very own - he brought a wet, salivating tongue to his navel, licking down and around until he reached Tweek's groin. Tweek bucked up a little, twitching and emitting breathy sounds and mousey noises.

Craig's fingers weren't in Tweek's mouth anymore. Instead, they were accompanying his other fingers in teasing Tweek at the lower regions, touching certain spots over his jeans that were noticeably erect. Instead of unbuckling, unsnapping and unzipping, Craig sat up. He dismounted Tweek, ordering him to turn over. Tweek's shirt was still half-on, and Craig just tore it off his arms and threw it over his shoulder, landing where ever he didn't care for it to be.

He had always had a roll of duct tape prepared - just in case, you know, he had to tape some asshat to a bench for whatever reason. Though, he knew there could be other uses for it. Something in the house could have broken, or perhaps someone was in need of a little sticky bonding. Or bondage.

Craig brought Tweek's arms to fold behind his bare back. Tweek kept them in place, until he heard the loud crackling of an unrolling wheel of duct tape.

"Ah!" Tweek rolled over, "What are you doing?"

Craig pushed him back over on his stomach. Tweek put his arms behind his back again, without Craig ordering him to do so. He brought the sticky end to Tweek's wrists, and began to wrap around and around. Tweek shook and twitched and jittered, almost trying to escape, but both of them knew he couldn't. He wouldn't.

Craig kept a death grip on his wrists as he wrapped the metallic tape around. "Don't fight it," he said.

He leaned downward, and cut the final end off the tape with his teeth. He patted the layering, consolidated over Tweek's wrists. He knew he couldn't move. With Tweek holding still in his spot, he was still twitching up a storm, but didn't dare roll over or attempt to get up.

Craig instead got up, almost hopping over Tweek enthusiastically. He then stood with his back against the wall. He was still and casual, with his hands folded nicely behind his back. He was waiting.

Tweek was squirming on the bed like some sort of excited worm. Seeing Craig just, just _standing_ there, he knew he had to get over there _somehow_, and his wobbling wasn't helping anyone at the moment. Unable to get to his feet, he resorted to rolling. He only rolled once or twice before he hit the carpeted floor with a _thud_, sending an cocky smirk to Craig's face.

"Eager to get on your knees, huh."

Tweek didn't comment, aside from his cry of sudden pain from the abdominal strike. He was more frustrated with having to drag himself across the carpet (which he was sure he had thoroughly vacuumed recently), and the new pain in his chest from his near face-first fall. He started by bending his knees in a way he never thought he'd have to, but he couldn't find the strength to lift his entire torso off the floor. He felt heavy. He was almost worried that he'd _never _get off the floor, but he wouldn't stop trying. He let out short grunts as he heaved himself to lean on his right side, bringing his left knee higher to his chin. He then toppled over a slim bit, with his ass in the air and face completely planted.

Craig was amused.

Tweek, with his face totally sticking to the carpet, used this for his body maneuver - he peeled his head off the ground, and lo, he was sitting up straight.

His muscles felt tense. Though his pants were still on, he felt small degrees of rug burn through the fabric over his knees as he dragged them to Craig's spot.

Once Craig could finally lay his hands on Tweek again, he took the blond's head in his grasp once more, bringing his pale cheek to brush against his groin area. Tweek breathed, feeling the bulge, and he knew what Craig wanted him to do.

He just didn't know how to get there.

And Craig was waiting again. Tweek stayed still, and Craig was nearly disappointed that he had to tell him what to do again.

With a thumb touching the blond's chin, he tipped his head upwards so he could look down at him. Tweek's eyes were big. Sleep-deprived. That never stopped him. "Show me your teeth."

He did.

Craig then lowered his hips so Tweek could be at eye level with his belt. He held onto him by his hair, and brought his face closer, showing him that he would have to go through with this, if he, if _they_, were to get what they wanted, what they needed.

Tweek started with opening his mouth over the thickness of the belt, getting his top and bottom incisors locked onto the edges. Even when keeping his tongue away from the surface, he could still taste it, sour, leathery, and raw. With the rough edges in his mouth's grasp, he began to tug, and tug, and tug, until he could get it loose enough to completely bite the loop and yank it off. Unfortunately for him, this was a harder task than expected - Craig slightly bucked his hips forward whenever Tweek would pull, and Tweek managed to mutter something that sounded like, "Stay still." Almost given up on pulling, Tweek then decided to use his tongue to get the end of the belt out of its loop.

The first phase had been completed. The second phase was getting it off the buckle, loose, and off for damned good. For this, he also used his tongue, hoping the awful, metallic taste would subside once he got other things into his mouth. He had to approach the pieces of the belt with different angles and biting methods - and when he finally, finally, separated the latched ends, he bit the metal end with a loud grunt and pulled back with all the might he had to get the entire thing off Craig's jeans. When the stupid thing was off his waist, his pants looked loose, inviting, like they were waiting for someone to just get the hell inside. Tweek had the belt between his teeth, panting, breathing hard - he spat it out onto the floor.

He almost slammed his face up against Craig's crotch to undo the button. Now he was chewing, yanking, practically devouring with all his energy and aggression to get it the fuck off. His teeth clinked against the metal snaps, and his lips prickled as he touched the teeth of Craig's zipper. He gave up on pulling the button itself; instead, he began to chomp and gnaw at the fabric, and he knew Craig didn't care if he were to completely mutilate it. When it snapped, he scrambled to find the end of the small zipper, so he could tear it down and break the barriers between his mouth and what he wanted.

He had to push the zipper up with his bottom lip, which was already drawing slight blood from rubbing against the teeth, along with the nipping back and forth from before - it was sensitive. He tasted metal all around. But he didn't waste any time tearing the zipper down once he had it gripped it between his teeth. Craig, having already grown impatient, helped bring down the boxers so that Tweek could finally take in what he's been working so hard to reach.

And Craig moaned. The reaction was involuntary; he couldn't control what ridiculously loud, or even ridiculously quiet, sounds he made when he felt Tweek's warm tongue on him, circling slowly, savoring it like it was the last time he could ever do this (which it most certainly wasn't, but it didn't hurt to pretend).

He wouldn't bite. Though, he did gently graze his teeth over the length, and Craig could feel the small imperfections that Tweek seemed to see. His canines were looked, felt, oddly shaped and grown, but nonetheless sharper than Craig's. Tweek was careful.

Tweek lowered down the length to bring more of his tongue's attention to the tip, where pre-cum was trickling, stroking the smooth inside walls of Tweek's mouth.

Craig could only mutter obscenities in the rush of heat that was flowing through him, as he was latching onto Tweek's thick hair to keep him in his place. Craig's knees began to buckle as his grip loosened on Tweek - Tweek, receiving that as an okay, pulled away slightly with small gasps of air, cum remaining on his bottom lip.

"No," Craig growled, handling him again and tugging his head in the direction he needed to be, "you're not finished."

He was right.

When his mouth was filled again, he let out a moan against the head, and judging by Craig's breathing pattern, along with the clutch on Tweek's hair getting tighter, and tighter, he was almost prepared for what was coming.

He spent a lot of timing debating whether or not to swallow, even each time he did this. The usual happenings consisted of so much thought and debate that he'd forget what to do, and end up swallowing it all, anyway.

Which is what he did.

He jerked away again once he felt his mouth filled cheek-to-cheek, gulping down the last of it. Leftover trickles dripped from his lips down to his chin. He licked around, tasting the bitter fluid again. His arms tingled with deadened feelings from being tied back for as long as he was. He gazed up at Craig shortly - he then brought himself to his feet, glaring at Craig's face through slits. Their faces were close. Craig arched a brow - he didn't know what he was waiting for.

"Untie me!" Tweek suddenly said, voice straining.

"Why?" Craig poked tonelessly.

"Because!" he almost shouted. He got quieter, "I wanna touch you."

"Understandable," Craig replied. "But," he leaned in, "you have to say the safe word," he spoke against Tweek's stinging lips.

"I..." Tweek drew away. "... I don't remember the safe word!"

Craig shrugged. "So, don't get untied."

"Goddammit—" And Tweek cut himself off when he violently crashed his lips with Craig's, mouths only closed this time, pushing, fighting against each other. Tweek pushed against him with so much force that Craig slid aside - he pulled back from him, as he didn't want to be cut from the windowsill or radiator that he was so closely standing against. Once he was off the wall, they continued to have somewhat of a face battle. Craig was being shoved backward into the pale grey arm chair in the corner - without taking his lips away from Tweek, he attempted to kick it aside. The both of them rotated, and the arm chair toppled over from their roughhousing. It had gone from kissing, back to neck nipping, and small hickeys planted upon their necks and collarbones, ready to be hidden from co-workers and awkward family dinners.

Then, Tweek had him cornered.

They stood forehead to forehead, breathing out their own breath and breathing in the other's.

"Your turn," Tweek said, still with those small, anxious tones that sounded like puberty had arrived late in the mail.

Craig didn't argue.

The blowing was quicker, what with Craig having the freedom of his hands. Tweek was leaning on one of the legs of the tipped chair, careful to not fall over as he didn't have hands to hold himself. When Craig brushed the rippled ends of his teeth down the shaft, Tweek had to groan, hiss his name, as he jittered from the sensation of Craig's botched and slanted teeth.

"_Ffffucking _Christ_, _Craig..."

"Mmhmmm," Craig replied, not that he'd had anything to say, he only wanted to breathe out and moan onto him.

It wasn't long before he finished - he'd swallowed the load too, but the pale liquid remained evident around his mouth. He wiped off with his bare arm, with a low grunt, looking back at the bed that clearly wasn't completely ruined - he knew they weren't finished.

Tweek was still resting himself on the chair leg, shaking with adrenaline and an erection with Craig's name on it. Craig lead him back to the bed, where Tweek lay with his back and arms against the disheveled blanket. Craig finished undressed Tweek, as well as himself - he then continued to litter him, smother him with soon-to-be hickeys and lustful kisses of right now, of the moments that Craig longed for every day at work. Working a normal, boring nine-to-five schedule, he saw Tweek morning and night, and even that wasn't enough for his ever-lasting crave to taste Tweek, and touch him and kiss him and do everything he had the freedom to do to him right now.

It was another lip-splitting kiss when they separated, exhaling profusely on each other's hot skin, that Tweek whispered, "You shouldn't have to play with me like this." He was referring to the tape that bonded his wrists. He strained to pull them apart, but to no avail.

"I can play with you however I want."

"I didn't think it would _matter_ what you _wanted_ if you—"

"You like it." Craig cocked his head around Tweek's, who leaned to the right as Craig tickled his ear with his breath.

"What..." Tweek let out short gasps as Craig used his teeth on his earlobe - goddamn, it was sensitive, and it wasn't helping him get his way. "... what are you gonna do? Keep me as your, as your..." another bite and a breath, "... duct taped sex slave for all eternity so you can lock me somewhere dark, and cold, and use me to satisfy your fantasies..." Craig only let him talk, to hear him talk and listen to his imagination run wild.

"How can that be a crime if the position is mutual? I'm yours, too," he whispered. "All you have to do is say the safe word."

"But I can't _remember_ it."

"We went over this. If you don't remember it," the tips of his fingers caressed his chin once more, trailing towards his moistened lips, "you sing the song." He sat up, straddling his partner still. "I'll start for you. _My, my, my, my..."_

"—_music _hits me, so hard..." He muttered words and lyrics he didn't know, replacing them with "du-du-du"'s and "na-na"'s. Craig, for one, was thoroughly amused with Tweek once again, as he watched him stutter the words out in a rush to get to the part he needed to remember. His eyes were shut as he mustered out the lyrics, or lack thereof. Finally, he reached the middle point — "... Stop_._ ... _Hammertime!_" His eyes shot open on the word. Craig was impressed. He clapped lightly.

"Very good." He stretched over to the drawer in the nightstand, where piles of junk rest. Amidst the post-its and the crumbled papers that were never once used, he retrieved one half of a broken scissor, and ordered Tweek to turn over once again.

"Ah! Don't, don't _cut_ me or anything," Tweek said.

"Trust me, will you?" Craig brought the sharp end to the underside. The layers seemed to all crumple into one, thinner ring around his wrists. Craig began to slit through the center quickly, but gradually got slower and more gentle as the particles keeping the tape together separated slowly.

When Tweek was released, his wrists felt cold and never had he felt more free and unconstrained. The first thing he did was tackle Craig down with his hands, embracing Craig's neck in his smaller, and now somewhat clammy palms, and introduced their lips to one another again. Tweek poked his tongue between the crevices of Craig's teeth, and Craig opened up, inviting him inside.

"Fuck," Craig said lowly, "turn over."

"Now?"

"No, tomorrow. _Yes_, now."

Craig had assumed his position behind Tweek - he began to approach his entrance with eager fingers. Upon touching it, Tweek let out what could be classified as a squeak.

Craig stroked his skin comfortingly. "Relax, macchiato," he said, "you're tense."

Tweek was having a mini-spasm in his position. Resting his head down on the pillow, he said, "We haven't... we haven't done this in three _weeks_..."

"I know," said Craig. He looked to his left where the supply nightstand stood, and he didn't really want to let go of Tweek. He then eyed the bedpost, where layers of rubberbands wrung around. He didn't remember the last time he'd snapped one on - it had to have been over three weeks ago, the last time they'd had sex. There was, also, a rubberband ball in the drawer of junk - it was one they had spent years making in their childhood. Now, in their adulthood, Craig took it upon himself to take off one rubberband each time they made love (even though it stung his insides to call it "making love"). It was a thick layer, the one that clutched the bedpost. They could no longer count the bands. And the ball was noticeably smaller, but for weeks, it hadn't been touched.

Craig continued. "Do you have a coat?"

"I'm not cold!"

Craig almost laughed. "A condom, stupid."

"Oh, my _God_, do we not have any? Oh, Jesus, we couldn't have possibly ran out that quickly, I, I mean, I bought a pack of like twenty-four that one time, or maybe it was two packs of twelve, I don't remember, but I'm pretty sure we didn't run out... ever..."

Craig fumbled around the drawer for something - there were no packages in sight, but only wrappers that gave him a second of hope before he realized they were empty.

Tweek was still shaking. Craig tried to steady him with his right hand.

And one must understand that when a man needs a condom, can't find one, and suddenly finds one, the man's body flushes with relief and excitement that cannot be described nor fathomed by any other human species.

Nay, Craig did not waste time rolling the genius invention over his length to begin the session. With quick-as-fuck preparation and few cries (Craig then scolding, because the neighbors might start complaining again, and oh, how he hated them), he entered slowly - he couldn't ram or jam or whatever faster than he was approaching. He leaned down on Tweek's back intimately. "Macchiato," he breathed, "loosen up. Don't be so nervous."

"Just..." Tweek's eyes were shut tight. "Don't kill me."

"When have I ever?"

And at Tweek's request, he did not kill him. He did push steadily, spitting down every now and then to assist the lubrication. He reached down under to caress Tweek where he needed attention, as he brought his fingers to Tweek's lips, so he could feel his warm tongue soothe his skin again. Tweek moaned onto his fingers, and whether it was a name or a swear, it didn't matter, because Craig loved to hear it.

Their sticky flesh mingled with one another, exerting heat and sweat - Craig squeezed with both his hands. sending Tweek's teeth into a clench around Craig's fingers. He hissed through his teeth as he lay a cheek on Tweek's back, bringing a lick, a kiss to his spine. Craig's rhythmic thrusts began to speed up in pace and energy, Tweek biting down harder and letting both saliva and cum drip onto the white wrinkled sheets.

Tweek's canines dug into Craig's cuticles. A tear escaped from the corner of his eye, as Craig deepened, feeling tighttight_tight_ around him. Craig's hand slipped out of Tweek's mouth and slid into his hair, fastening a grip, and forcing his forehead into the pillow.

"_Mmmmfff..." _Tweek groaned before he screamed into the pillowcase, biting down and clawing with his nails until he could practically feel the threads fraying.

"Fuck!" Craig would only scream obscenities and say Tweek's name softly, as though it were a secret. No secrets could be kept if the sounds of the bed springs squeaked through the walls and floors, and their cries could be heard down the halls. Craig didn't want to keep anything a secret. He soon let himself cry out Tweek's name and fuck if someone cared.

It didn't matter if anyone cared. They didn't care who cared and they didn't keep any secrets. There were no secrets, and when Craig leaned down to whisper that he loved him, there was no shock nor surprise. No secrets. Tweek knew.

Everyone knew.

* * *

The arm chair was knocked over. The mattress was almost half off the bed frame. Their sheets were more than half off the mattress. There were minor cum stains on the carpet, and no one else was going to come into their home and notice them. Their lips were crusted with dried blood. Tweek was wrapped beneath Craig's left arm, and in his right hand, he held a black cigarette. He inhaled, exhaled. And their eyes were closed, tired and satisfied, they both smiled, and they knew they were finished.

Craig put out the cigarette on their bedside ash tray. He reached into the half-open drawer, feeling around for their rubberband ball. Finding it easily, he peeled one off the load.

He snapped it around the bedpost, and the lights went off.


End file.
